


Midnight in the Library

by Morvidra



Category: Howl Series - Diana Wynne Jones, Howl's Moving Castle - All Media Types
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 1, Gen, Missing Scene, Screw Destiny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-24 16:29:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6159667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morvidra/pseuds/Morvidra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Oh, yes, I can be clever too. It only took me two weeks at Mrs Fairfax's to find the spell we're using."<br/>--Martha in "Howl's Moving Castle"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight in the Library

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cptsdcarlosdevil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cptsdcarlosdevil/gifts).



[](http://s1016.photobucket.com/user/Morvidra/media/old-books-436498_640.jpg.html)

Martha opened the door of Mrs Fairfax’s study and went in.

The first few times she had done this, she had crept about the house on tiptoe, not even daring to light a candle until the door was shut behind her. After a week of surreptitious behaviour, however, she was losing her limited stock of patience. In any case, it would have taken a thunderstorm, or possibly an earthquake, to wake Mrs Fairfax once well asleep.

Muttering the spell to light the lamps, Martha stomped over to the bookcases. She wished that there weren’t quite so many books in the room – or, at the least, that some form of organisation had been applied to them.

“Come on,” she said under her breath as she perused the shelves. “I know you’re here somewhere…”

“Excuse me,” said a polite voice from somewhere near the ceiling.

Martha froze to the spot. This hadn’t happened on any of the previous nights. Her one consolation was that the voice didn’t sound like Mrs Fairfax’s.

On second thoughts, that wasn’t a good thing.

“Were you looking for me?” the voice continued. Martha’s eyes swivelled up to the top of the bookcase, where she was not at all reassured by the fact that she couldn’t see anyone – or anything – that could be talking.

“I don’t think so,” she said after a short pause. “Er… who are you?”

“I am the Spirit of the Library,” declaimed the voice dramatically. A little too dramatically, really.

“Oh, are you.” Martha folded her arms. As a not-terribly-truthful person herself, she could spot a bad liar at thirty paces, and this ‘spirit’ was lying through its teeth.

Assuming it had teeth, of course. 

“Well,” the voice admitted, sounding crestfallen, “no – actually I’m just a golden harp. It just… sounds more impressive to say I’m a spirit, don’t you think?”

Martha could see it now, peering down from the top shelf. Admittedly, peering was an odd word to use of something that had no eyes, but the impression was there, nonetheless.

“I think being a talking harp is quite impressive,” she said cautiously.

“Oh, you’re very kind,” said the harp, audibly preening. “But there are lots of us in Ingary, you know. And people steal us quite often, which is very tiresome. You aren’t planning to steal me, are you?” it asked suddenly, sounding anxious. “I mean, it’s usually boys who steal golden harps, but there’s absolutely no reason it couldn’t be a girl. Only I ought to shout, if you are.”

“I really wasn’t planning to,” Martha said. “I’m here to learn magic, not to steal harps.” She cocked her head. “Have you been – um – stolen often?”

“Never, actually,” the harp admitted. “I’m sure I will be,” it added hastily. “Only… I’m very new, you see. I’ve only just come from the shop.” This last was said in a tone of some embarrassment.

“Well, I wouldn’t have guessed,” Martha declared, abandoning truth in favour of flattery. “You seem like a very mature and experienced harp to me – one I’m sure anyone would be proud to steal.”

The harp wriggled happily on its shelf.

“But since I’m not looking to steal anyone just at the moment,” Martha continued, “I wonder if you could help me?”

“Oh, of course,” the harp said, sounding delighted. “That is, if I can – what do you need?”

“I’m looking for a spell.”

The harp looked puzzled. “But I thought you were here to learn magic. Couldn’t you just ask your teacher?”

“Not really,” Martha said. “Look – I don’t mean any offence, but I need to know – will you be telling Mrs Fairfax about this conversation?”

“Certainly not!” said the harp, in shocked tones.

“Well, it’s a bit complicated,” Martha began. “But the short version is that that I’m the youngest of three sisters, and I’m supposed to seek my fortune one day, only I don’t want to. And my next older sister is apprenticed at a bakery, only she hates it, and she’d much rather learn to be a witch. So I need a spell to help us change places. And Mrs Fairfax is an old friend of my mother, so she mustn’t know.”

The harp hummed slightly. “So… you need a spell to make you look like each other?”

“Yes.”

“Forever?”

“It mustn’t be permanent. Ideally, it should wear off gradually; that way it won’t be so obvious.” Martha raised her eyebrows. “Do you know of a spell like that?”

“I’ve never even heard of one,” the harp admitted. “But you might try looking in Mrs Fairfax’s research journals – she has a reputation as a very creative research witch, you know.” It nodded towards the second bookcase from the left. “They’re the scruffy-looking ones on the top shelf.”

“Thank you very much indeed,” Martha said sincerely. “You’ve been a great help.”

“Oh, it was a pleasure.” The harp sidled across to the shelf. “…I don’t suppose you’ve changed your mind about stealing me, have you?”

“I don’t think there’s much call for golden harps in a bakery,” Martha said absently, pulling down the first volume.

“Well, perhaps you could think about it?” the harp said hopefully. “You did say you’re a third child, after all…”

Martha, who up to that point had been feeling quite kindly towards the harp, lost her temper.

“Let me make this quite clear,” she snarled, advancing on the startled instrument. “I do not want to steal you, and I do not want to seek my fortune. I want to get married and have ten children, and if I ever, ever find myself being pushed into a fairy story then I will not go. And if you ever suggest again that I steal you I will break you over my knee and drop you in the fire. Understand?”

“Perfectly!” the harp said hastily.

“Good!” Martha opened the volume on the desk. “Try my sister Lettie when she gets here,” she told the harp. “But don’t be surprised if she throws something at you.”


End file.
